


Fire Meet Gasoline

by AvianAtrocities



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvianAtrocities/pseuds/AvianAtrocities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's dangerous to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Meet Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> More or less inspired by the Sia song with the same title. Unbeta'd and I can't write im so sorry.

He felt like he was going to explode. Every time he looked at Roadhog, or if Roadhog looked at him, he felt an intense, beautiful, throbbing sort of pain in his chest. It felt as if his lungs would burst and his heart would shoot up and out of his throat. He loved and feared the feeling, strange and unfamiliar, but so wonderfully addicting. His hands would twitch and his ears would burn and all he wanted to do was be near him, be close, just the two of them. He wasn’t sure when the feeling first started, but as it began, it consumed him like a flame.

Roadhog smelled of sweat, of the desert, of leather and gasoline. He was huge, all fat and muscle and hair and dirty clothes, old and worn and rough around the edges. He laughed like an earthquake, and every time he grabbed some poor soul with that chain and hook, laughing and wheezing as shrapnel and blood filled the air, Junkrat though he could melt into a puddle, right then and there.

They were volatile together. They fueled each other, burned so brightly together. There was a pain and sadness that sat within both of them, urging them to fight, to maim, to steal. The world needed to burn, it needed to explode, it needed to suffer the way they had. And they followed that call, bringing rampage and ruin where ever they went. Together.

Junkrat was thin, wiry, smoldering, jagged. He carried enough explosives to blow a city right off the face of the planet and then some. Roadhog could lift him with two fingers, or carry him in one arm, and he often had. The little gremlin always managed to get himself into hot water, and Roadhog was always there to bail him out. It had become expected.

What he hadn’t expected was the fire inside him that burned whenever he threw himself in the line of fire to shield the Rat, the heat in his belly whenever he heard him giggle, or the fierce protectiveness that overtook him most days.

He felt warm whenever they made contact. It felt like his skin would burn and fall off. Junkrat would lay on him and count his moles; crowing triumphantly when he found a new one, or wrap his arms around his neck and kiss his rubber mask, or sleep on his gut in the shade while the summer sun kept the air around them hot and arid.

He felt like he’d explode when he held Junkrat in his arms.

They’re partners, in multiple senses of the word. He can’t imagine being without Hog, not anymore. He doesn’t call it love, he doesn’t even know what the word means, but he feels the white hot burn when he holds one of his giant hands in his own, when he breathes in his scent and presses his dry, chapped lips against Hog’s. He feels so happy, it’s like a million explosions, but all inside of him. It burns and hurts and it feels so bloody wonderful.

When Roadhog grunts a tender string of words at him one day, he drops the bomb he was holding. Quite literally, although Hog drops his own figuratively. Luckily, it’s not the physical one that goes off, and Junkrat ignores it on the ground as he launches himself at the other man, hooting and hollering as he clings to him. Roadhog laughs back, deep and wheezy. He holds Junkrat in his arms, tight, but careful not to hurt. Junkrat doesn’t fully understand what ‘ _I love you’_ means, but he knows that it makes him explode.

And they burn together, bright and hot and breathless.


End file.
